Twelve Worm War
by Lucifer Mortalis
Summary: A small battle in the middle of nowhere has the potential to tip the scales in a war between two great powers.
1. Chapter 1

Frenchies Vs. Brits

By,

Relarius

Disclaimer: The idea for this fanfiction is mine. I think the rights to Worms 3D belong to Sega.

"Test the wind," said One looking back at his team. Two happily obliged and got out the mini flag to test the wind. That is why Two was his second in command, the only thing he liked better than killing Frenchies was testing the wind. A weird hobby? Probably, but it was helpful when you were holding a rocket launcher pointed at Frenchies and didn't want to miss.

"It's a little to the North-East boss," Two replied when he had finished checking the direction. "Should we get Three and Four out to their positions now?" He inquired. "Sure Two, let's get them moving out as soon as possible." He turned to Three and Four, the silent twins. "Alright boys let's get you out to your positions and make sure to collect any drops you find on the way." They nodded simultaneously and headed out.

"Alright Five get those positions plotted out and prepare for airdrop calls." Five happily went about his duties and started typing calculations into his laptop. That was why Five was here after all, he was the numbers man, that and he just loved seeing Frenchies blown sky high. Or anything else for that matter. "I'll be ready in five boss," he said.

Content with what was happening with the rest of the team he turned to the newest member of their little squad, Six. He was apparently part Frenchie himself but as long as he likes blowin' up the other Frenchies it doesn't much matter what he is. The only problem was that he didn't know what Six could do. _Better to bluff,_ he thought. "Alright Six you are going to go around the edge of their caravan just out of air strike range. Then you are going to help distract them with gunfire until the bombs drop. You think you can do that?" He asked. "Yes sir!" He eagerly responded. _Good, _he thought. _That's a start._

The time had finally come to begin the strike and get this Frenchie squad out of his sight. "You got the airstrike ready to go yet?" One asked. "Yes sir," Five replied. "Good, I'll radio the men." He took out his radio set. "Alright men it's about time we gave these Frenchies a one way ticket to the grave! Get ready to fire on my command." Suddenly he heard a commotion near the enemy encampment. "Tuez les Britanniques!" He heard a Frenchie yell. "Watch out!" He yelled into his radio. Then the gunfire erupted.

He saw the twins open fire into the enemy group. They looked like they had the same amount of men as he did but probably not a prepared airstrike. "Get the airstrike off! Now!" One yelled at Five as an explosion went off in the distance. When he looked out he saw that an airplane was dropping bombs off onto the area where Three and Four had been. "Oh no! It's heading straight for us!" Two yelled. "Quick! Get to cover!" One called out before diving to the side. Suddenly the bombs hit and the world went dark.

One woke up in intense pain. He looked down at himself and noticed half his body was gone. _At least my arms are still here, _he thought. _If the Frenchies come anywhere near me they're going to be eating lead! _He looked around and noticed that he couldn't see Two or Five. He grabbed for his radio only to find that it was no longer there. He started looking around for that and saw it lying at the top of the hill he had been hiding on only a few minutes earlier.

He started to drag himself up the hill toward the abandoned radio set that may prove to be the only chance for him and his men to get out of this alive. After he finally reached the top of the hill he grabbed the signature Brit radio piece and desperately tried to make it work. He finally got to the secure channel and started listening for chatter. There was only static so he tried talking to his troops.

"Three are you there? Three? How about you Four?" He called into the radio. After getting no response there he decided to move on to the next trooper with a set. "What about you Six? Are you still alive?" He waited for a few seconds. "Talk to me Six, are you OK?" Still no response. He heard a noise behind him on the hill. He turned around gun raised to see Two making his way up the hill. He put up his hand to wave him over.

"Watch out boss!" Two called. One didn't even get a chance to look behind him before the Frenchie shot. His lights went out and he didn't see anything more.

End of Chapter One


	2. Chapter 2

Trois looked up from the Brit he had just finished off. He saw the other Brit trying to find a weapon to attack him with and tossed a cluster bomb down at him. It went off and all but ripped the filthy Brit apart. _Un de moins Brit salir la planète. _He thought. He took a quick inventory of the situation and the items the Brits had on them. He smashed the radio and grabbed the first Brits gun.

He started walking down the hill toward the second Brit. He was here for one thing and for one thing only: to secure the road and eliminate any Brit resistance at any cost. Trois looked around for any sign of Cinq or Une. He spotted Cinq checking the area around which the airstrike had initially hit. Une meanwhile was in hand to hand combat with one of the surviving Brits that must have been hanging around their camp. Just as he had that thought Une knocked him out and got to binding his hands together.

_ Une bonne chose est si bien versé dans les corps à corps, _he thought. He as he returned to the task at hand he noticed movement in the corner of his eye. He quickly swiveled in his spot and raised his weapon, too late, as a worm rose from the ashes near Cinq and delivered a devastating strike to what was probably his spine. At the same time another Brit blind sided him and then everything went dark.

When Trois woke up he saw that he was surrounded by three worms in mostly what looked like tattered Brit special operations uniforms. One of the worms took the initiative to start the interrogation. He spoke in their native dialect which was utterly meaningless to him. _Qui se souciait d'apprendre la langue des Britanniques de toute façon? _He thought. Very few Frenchies even bothered to learn and of the Brits language. Trois was no exception. He looked around for any other of his Frenchie team mates and was disheartened to find none.

The Brit was angry now and smacked him across the face with the back of his hand. Then he started speaking in his worthless Brit gibberish and waving around a cluster bomb while one of his cohorts pointed a shotgun at his face. Neither of them looked happy and even without the language comprehension he could tell that they were threatening him. "Va te faire foutre!" He said as he spat in their faces. He saw general confusion at his words and then raw anger at his actions all playing out on their faces. He looked up one last time to see the butt of the shotgun heading toward his face and then nothing.

He awoke with the taste of blood heavy and coppery in his mouth. He decided that he would make sure that he got pay back for that one. He would have stitches for quite a while once these Brits were dead and buried. He saw that although the Brits weren't bothering with him anymore they hadn't killed him and they weren't off their guard. They were watching, and waiting for any more of his team to show up. He couldn't wait to hear them scream.

Suddenly he heard the hoot of an owl three times and then two more. He smiled to himself. That was the signal that they were in their positions and were prepared to attack their opponents. He gathered himself for a lunge to the side, he wouldn't want to be anywhere near kill shot level when they came charging in here. He wasn't disappointed and took the dive to the side when the first shot was fired.

The battle was waging around him as he lay face first in the dirt. The initial charge seemed to have taken one of the Brits out right away but he could not be certain of that. Meanwhile at least one Frenchie was lying on the ground blood pooling around him. He probably would not make it; he thought it was his fellow leader Six. The battle continued to rage with neither side letting up or seeming to win despite the differences in numbers and the element of surprise. Suddenly an explosion went off sending him flying out of the Brit encampment.

He could see the fire spreading around where he had just been and thought himself lucky to have taken so little damage. Then he thought,_Que ferions mieux d'avoir été un accident, je préfère ne pas avoir à commencer à regarder mon dos l'instant je obtenir gratuitement. _But it was better to save that matter for later. He tested his restraints to see if he could get free now but had no luck. All he could do is wait, and wait he would until one side came out victorious. Preferably his.

Suddenly the flames went down and the gunfire stopped. He listened closely and heard only the sounds of Brits collecting themselves. Then he heard a noise behind him and felt his bindings being cut. He turned around to see Une standing over him. "Irons-nous?" Une asked. Trois nodded and they went.

End of Chapter Two


	3. Chapter 3

Soon the smoke had cleared enough for Five to take a good, long look around the battlefield. Four had been wounded pretty badly in the initial charge and both Three and Five had taken damage as well. Three was currently trying to multitask reloading his and his brothers guns while trying to take care of Fours wounds. The Frenchies had left but not without leaving one of their own behind. He went over to check the body only to find it full of more holes than cheese made by Swissies.

He got up and went back to his wounded comrades. "Mind if I help you with that?" he asked Three indicating his brother. Three nodded and moved away from Four so that he could finish reloading the guns. Five handed him his own weapon so that he would have something to do while he worked. Five, after all, was the closest thing to a medic that the group had and seeing as they were already down two men he was also the acting commander.

He quickly went to work on Fours wounds and got him patched up as best he could with what little supplies he had. Then he looked over him and his handiwork to assess his condition. "He should live," he told Three. "Might have a little bit of difficulty recuperating after all of this is over but with enough time and effort he should be hopping around in no time." Three nodded to show his thanks then handed Five his gun back and went to his brothers side.

Five got up and went to where they had been holding their Frenchie captive until the strike and wondered if Six were in the same position as he had been. Then he noticed that the explosion had been too close to their positions to be from one of them meaning that the Frenchies had just about or maybe even succeeded in killing one of their own. _Better than he deserves, _he thought. He had never had any love for Frenchies and this particular Frenchie had killed his boss and second in command who had also been two of his closest friends. He hoped that the Frenchie was still alive and would be long enough for him to get to him. He wanted that vengeance for himself.

He checked the perimeter again and decided that the Frenchies weren't still near their little encampment. After the quick patrol he came back and started to take stock of what they had left. It wasn't much, they were missing a man complete with all of his equipment and had had much of their supplies blown up before they could even get into a real firefight. At the moment they had five guns; their own and the Frenchies, an OK supply of ammunition, the rocket launcher which had somehow survived, and some medicine.

_That isn't so bad, _he thought. _But if this gets drawn out too much longer it wont matter if they had all the medicinal supplies and ammunition in the world if they had no food to sustain themselves with. _That and the fact that the radio was blown to smithereens meant that they had to finish this quickly for no reinforcements or supply drops would be arriving in the near future. _At least, _he thought, _not for our side. _If they could intercept their supply drops and keep them too busy to call in for reinforcements then they might just stand a chance.

He waited until he had his plan thought out in its entirety and then went back to the brothers. He spent the next twenty or so minutes telling them of his plan. As usual with them, there were no interruptions. "So what do you think?" He asked. They looked at each other for a few seconds before simultaneously nodding confirmation. _Good, _he thought, _we just might be able to pull this off. _"Alright, I will get the equipment set up just come get me if you need anything." They just stared in response.

Soon they had all of the equipment dolled out and they were ready to hunker down for the night. "We move out just before first light," he said. "We will try to catch them between patrols with their guard down." The brothers nodded to show that they understood then lied down for the night and fell near instantaneously to sleep. Five didn't sleep, he still had work to do.

He got up and went to collect the bodies of his fallen comrades and put them side by side. Then he got busy with digging. When the graves were done he put them each into their individual resting places and covered them up. Then he put two makeshift crosses at the heads of their graves to mark their resting places. Afterward he carved into them the individual names and took a step back to admire his work.

All worm dynasties had their own burial markers in order to be able to tell the different alliances amongst the dead. The Brits had the cross, the Frenchies the ankhs, the Americani had these really basic slab grave stones with no real detail except the names of the dead. This was tradition amongst their people and was as important to their civilizations as warfare. Content with his job he lay down next to the brothers for a much needed rest.

End of Chapter Three


End file.
